Serafina
by Kelly Beansprout
Summary: With Angelica's decommisioning, Marco thought that he would be finally free from the clutches of the SWA. Blinded by his sorrow, he forgots one fundamental thing, once the SWA has you, it'll never let you go. With this, he is assigned a new girl.
1. Angelo Cacciato

Angelica was to be decomissioned.

What a word, "decommisioned", how it failed to describe what would happen to her. Marco laughed, loud and harsh , he had no illusions about the truth. How foolish he had been to put everything he had into that girl.

He stood at his desk for what seemed like forever, his tears threatening to plumment onto the top-secret documents on the desk. Had they really done her a favor?

Marco slowly brought out the chair and sat down at his desk, reaching into one of the top shelves, he brought out a small hardcover book.

"The Prince of the Land of Pasta"

A book of happy days.

---- ¤ ----

"Hey, Triela! Did you just come back from Angelica's?" Henrietta ran to catch up to the tall girl. Triela frowned slightly and toyed with her vest button, a bouquet of wilting flowers still grasped tightly in her hands.

"Yeah." she said stiffly.

"So? How's she doing?" Henrietta glanced furtively down at the bouquet.

"They've moved her, Henri. I don't think she's going to see them now." Triela's voice trembled. "She's went into a coma...last week." Henrietta's eyes widened. A curtain of silence fell slowly inbetween them, until there was only the clicking of their leather shoes. Echoing in the walkway. 


	2. Buon Compleanno

**Chapter 2:**

Buon Compleanno Happy Birthday

The beeping of the heart monitor was slow and strained. Angelica was fighting as hard as her comatose body could to stay alive.

Her room was gray and empty, but one thing stood out from all the machines with their beeping monitors. A single, silk rose, petals the color of dusk, lying beside Angelica's face.

---- ¤ ----

Angelica was only put on a few missions after multiple hospital stays, her failing memory and addiction to the medication was proving a danger to both Marco and herself. They decided to give her a rest, to see if they could do anything to fix her.

So, they decided to keep Angelica from missions until further notice. Triela, knowing that Angelica would be very disapointed, decided to throw her a party.

The girls had all chipped in. Claes had baked dozens and dozens of star-shaped cookies. Triela had managed to get some sparkling cider and fluted champange glasses. Rico had made the room look like a tinsel and colored paper explosion. Henrietta played Beethoven's 7th on her violin and they all sang along. Then, as a finale, Triela had placed a silk rose in between her teeth and asked Angelica for a final dance. Claes rushed over and hit the stereo, a spirited flamenco came on. Although it was only for a split second, they all forgot about the guns lying just below the bunks. For once, their world had some semblance of normality.

The whole affair was like a big birthday party and Angelica had never been happier.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for another stub of a chapter, but I'm having a bit of trouble seeing where this will go. A.K.A the famous writer's block.


	3. Resurrezione

**Resurrezione** Resurrection 

The sun rose that day, like any other, tinting the arches and pillars of the SWA a delicate shade of orange. Then it swept through the courtyards, catching in tiny dewdrops and awakening silken petals and buds. The sunlight continued, until it reached the gray-green hospital building.

Angelica's ward was as ugly, gray and sterile as before. The blackout curtains on the windows were heavy with dust, although as the sun came, a faint line of light glimmered through a crack.

The line settled faintly on Angelica's eyelid.

Then, her eyes opened.

She blinked.

Then, she smiled.

Slowly. Miraculously. She rose from the hospital bed, her mind set on one thing. One thing before she left. She stepped onto the cold floor. The wires began to fall from her, leaving red marks. She pulled off her oxygen supply and drew in deep breaths of clean morning air. Angelica was a marionette, breaking away from her strings, she didn't need them anymore.

Her fingers curled around the dark fabric of the blackout curtains. She pulled them away as if they were made of lead. Her eyes settled on the courtyard.

She didn't see an empty courtyard, in her mind it was full, full of forgotten people and memories.

Her nonna, silver hair drawn up in a tight bun. Her papà, the smiling man he had been before the debt and the divorce and the alchohol. And a thousand people she had forgotten, they were back now, the haze of the conditioning lifting. Angelica could have named every single last one of them, she wanted to shout their names out. Sing them like a song.

As she looked at all of them, her eyes caught around one man, Marco. He waved and called out to her, calling her to come down and join them.

Angelica smiled and sighed. As the sun dimmed in her eyes, she knew that she was going to be with them forever. Laughing, she floated like a feather towards them.

**Author's Note:** Going to completely revise the last two chapters. I'm taking a break from reading my reviews too. Oh yeah, Happy Holidays.


End file.
